Inside
by keeponwritin
Summary: Can't explain it without giving away too much. Read the first couple chapters, see if it intrigues you...
1. Argumentation

[Disclaimer: I don't own Radio Free Roscoe. OBVIOUSLY.  
  
A/N: Well, guess you weren't expecting this. After not updating anything in forever (besides 17), I come back...and with an RFR fic? Yep, RFR fic. It shall be weird to be part of a much smaller section, but as soon as I started writing this, I couldn't stop. Quite enjoyable. I hope I got the characters down right. Let me know if you think I suck. :-D]  
  
Lily Randall, clad in hot pink and black from head to toe, reached for one of the last plastic mixed fruit containers on the counter. A meeting with Miss Mitchell, biggest wench this side of the Nile, had caused her tardiness to the one enjoyable part of the school day--lunch. Before she could even think, another hand lightly touched her outstretched arm. Her first instinct was to smack the face of the owner of this hand, since the gesture did seem rather flirtatious. And Ms. Randall was no feminist, but she wasn't about to sit around and play along with some jerk's idea of harmless flirtation. Of course, it didn't take her long to realize the hand belonged to none other than Ray Brennan.  
  
she said with a huge sigh of relief. You scared me.  
  
he said, scrunching his face in thought and nodding slightly. I get that a lot. She couldn't help but smile a bit. She wasn't sure why she always laughed at Ray's jokes. Most of the time, they weren't even that funny. It was just the way he said them...or the fact that it was him saying them. Where've you been? I got worried, I was looking all over school for you.  
  
Meeting with Miss Mitchell, Lily began, rolling her eyes completely. You know, sometimes she just makes me so mad, I swear she's out to get me, she and Kim Carlisle would be the best of-- For some reason, she quickly glanced down at her watch, then looked back up and paused. Ray, it's only 12:36. Lunch started 6 minutes ago.  
  
Y-yeah, well, you know, he started, stumbling over his words. I didn't, you know, want you to...miss... He paused. French Toast Stick Thursday.  
  
Ray, you know I hate the french toast sticks.  
  
Drown them in syrup, load on the sugar, and I swear you won't even be able to _taste_ the rotten egg. Lily rolled her eyes once again, this time smiling, and placed the fruit cup on her tray, skipping past the rest of the food. She handed over a dollar and began to look for Robbie and Travis when she noticed Ray staring at her tray.  
  
she asked curiously.  
  
Lily, what are you DOING? Ray asked in his typical overly-dramatic way. A one-dollar lunch?! How could you disgrace the name of loading up on unhealthy cafeteria food?  
  
she started, as soon as she spotted their table and began walking towards it, I've got to watch my girlish figure. In other words, she'd been eating way too much lately and felt like a pig. This was her way of balancing it out. She laid down her tray in the spot to the right of Ray, to the left of Robbie, and across from Travis. The two already seemed to be engrossed in their own conversation, so the other two sat down quietly.  
  
Yeah, well, Ray began, rather indignantly, I'm watching my girlish figure, too. As he said this, he picked up the cheesesteak off his plate, drenched in cheese whiz, and took the first bite. Lily surveyed the rest of his plate--chocolate milk, a bag of sour cream and onion chips, and a big pack of gummi bears. Ray wasn't exactly known for being the most honest person around. Or the best liar.  
  
I'm just not sure how this'll be beneficial to the show, Ray and Lily caught Travis saying, once their mini-conversation had ended. I just feel it poses too much of a threat to our anonymity. Waller's already on to us. Should we really be adding to the evidence for our own prosecution?  
  
Isn't our show supposed to be for the people, by the people? Robbie reasoned. I think...maybe...our own personal tastes have been influencing the music we play too much. This way, we can start back at block one. Find out what the people like.  
  
Since when is RFR about pleasing the people? Travis asked, in his subtly caustic way.  
  
I'm not saying permanently. It's more like... Robbie stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully. A temporary marketing scheme. We've obviously been losing listeners, so we'll just lure them back in for a while. A temporary recess from our ideals to help us in the long run. When Travis didn't immediately respond, Robbie sat back in his chair, silently gloating over his victory.  
  
I still don't think it's how many people are listening, but how our words affect those that are listening, Travis said, submissively. He paused before going on. I'll sleep on it.  
  
And so will I....once someone tells me what the heck's going on here, Ray said.  
  
Yeah, guys, Lily started in a semi-serious tone. Is something going on with the show?  
  
Travis and Robbie looked at each other for a second, deciding who should break the news. Robbie, being more confident in his opinion, started to speak.  
  
Well...yes and no, he sighed. All day today I was thinking about last Wednesday, when we were doing the bit about Waller's obnoxious habit of showing up at the exact moment you're doing something punishable by detention. And right when we were about to go to a caller, Travis tells us there are no callers. Obviously we're losing listeners, so I've been trying to think of ways to bring people back in. Even though everyone likes to vent their anger about Roscoe, people don't always want to listen to it. Primarily, so far, RFR's been about the talking, and the music's just an addendum. I figured we could scout around for local talent, see what kind of music other Roscoe students listen to, lure people in with the music and keep them there with the talk.  
  
What makes you think we have no more listeners just because no one called in? Lily asked, eyes widened.   
  
If no one in the entire town of Roscoe wants to vent about Waller, I believe we've witnessed a miracle, Travis quipped with his usual smirk.  
  
There was a slight pause while Ray and Lily soaked in the information.  
  
Sounds good to me, Ray said, apathetically sitting back in his chair. Suddenly, he jerked up and looked at Robbie and Travis suspiciously. I won't have to be the one finding the music, right?  
  
Well, I guess...not... Robbie started.  
  
Then what are we _waiting_ for? Ray exclaimed.   
  
A consensus? Travis suggested, casting a glance at Lily, who seemed to be off in her own world.  
  
Sorry, Ray, but I agree with Travis, she said, as Travis cast a victorious glance in Robbie's direction. What are we supposed to do? Hi, I'm from Radio Free Roscoe, can we play your song on our station'?  
  
Come on, guys, we've protected our identities thus far, Robbie reasoned. I'm sure we can think up a tactful way to get the music to play.  
  
Ray said, sitting back and stuffing his face with gummi bears. Steal people's demos.  
  
And get charged with theft, Travis said sarcastically. Brilliant idea, Einstein.   
  
Hey, a lot of people steal and don't get in trouble for it! Ray said in his defense. Like my Pikachu Pokemon card that got stolen in 5th grade.  
  
Ray, you found that 3 days later after you left it in your pocket and it went through the dryer, Lily said, squinting her eyes in partial confusion.  
  
So it was stolen by the demonic dryer of doom. Everyone except Ray rolled their eyes.   
  
Just think about it, guys, Robbie pleaded. Even if not for the listeners, just for the fun of it. Who knows what fresh, new, undiscovered talent we could find?  
  
At that second, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.  
  
One thing was for sure. Tonight, the RFR kids wouldn't be getting much sleep.  
  
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[W00t, please read and review, and let me know if I got it right. :-P]


	2. Feel You In The Shadows

The clock on the warehouse's brick wall struck 4 o'clock. The orangey-red letters flashed On Air as all four adjusted their headphones for the last time.   
  
I'm Question Mark and I'm wondering... Robbie started with a somber tone of voice, pausing after the final word, something he didn't do often. Are we getting old? RFR was supposed to be cutting edge stuff. And I used to think the only thing that would stop us was if all of our identities were revealed. I never thought we could run dry. But then we did. In fact, if you're listening to this right now, you should know your'e part of a small minority. And for most radio stations, that'd be enough to thrown in the towel...  
  
Lily as Shady Lane sharply interrupted, Lucky for you, we don't give up that easily.  
  
Here's our proposition, Robbie continued, as Travis sat boredly behind the station's controls, For the next two weeks, starting Monday, RFR will be focused solely on music from local bands, singers, whatever. Sort of a....Local Talent Fest. You can get your music to us by...um... Robbie was at a loss for words. He still hadn't thought of a plan.   
  
Leaving your demo at Mickey's, Travis, as Smog, added, surprising both Lily and Robbie, And we'll have one of our inside sources pick it up and drop it off with us.  
  
Lily said, smiling at the fact that they had a plan, and Travis's support, It will safely be back in your posession within a couple days.  
  
If you like our proposition... Robbie began.  
  
Or you think it stinks worse than boy's bathroom..._before_ they cleaned out all those dead mice... Ray added, shuddering.  
  
Call us now, Lily said brightly. Within mere seconds, the phone in the warehouse was ringing. Travis pushed the blinking 1st line button and held up his chalkboard, reading in big, bold letters: Ed & Ted.  
  
Robbie said monotonously at the sight of the chalkboard. And how are you today, Ed and Ted?  
  
Quite splendiferous, Senor Question Mark, Ed responded. And yourself? Robbie was about to answer when the sounds of Ted muttering were audible. Oh, right, Ed continued. Ted and I believe that the Local Talent Fest sounds like an excellent vehicle for exploring Roscoe's _hidden talent_.  
  
And we'll be sure to play your song You're So Collectable, Girl daily, Robbie said, somewhat sarcastically. Stunned silence followed, before shrills of delight.  
  
RFR's heard of us! they heard Ted yell. We're on our way to superstardom! This only lasted seconds before the sophisticated speaking returned once more.  
  
Why, how thoughtful and kind of you to mention our petty litte song when such greater talent abounds in Roscoe, Ed said, maintaining his cool.  
  
You can say that again, Ray muttered under his breath.  
  
We support your decision to go local-music-only for the next week, Ted said, also keeping his cool and shielding his giddiness. RFR rules! All four DJs smiled faintly. Ed and Ted practically represented the public--they always had the same opinions as the majority of the listeners. So their opinions had come to be pretty well-respected amongst the group. They took a few more calls, all positive, before Travis put on a song and their microphones were turned off.  
  
Verdict reached? Robbie asked, peering over in the direction of Travis's box.  
  
The court does, in fact, rule in favor of Mr. Robert McGrath, Travis said with one eyebrow cocked.  
  
Court adjourned, Lily said, beaming, as she slipped her headphones back over her ears.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
It didn't take long for Lily to become completely stoked about finding new music in Roscoe. She'd seen a bunch of awesome acts at Mickey's and elsewhere, until they faded away into musical oblivion. If she had to, she was willing to scout for talent all over the town until they found something good enough to play on RFR.   
  
In the meantime on this idle Friday afternoon, she headed over to Mickey's to play a bit. Who knows what she was thinking exactly. Maybe she wanted someone to say, Hey, cool guitar. I play guitar too. I have a band. We're awesome. Would you like a copy of our demo? Maybe that wasn't the most realistic situation possible. But it was worth a shot.  
  
Lily walked in with her guitar case in hand, carrying it like a briefcase. She found Mickey drying off a glass behind the counter, and she set down her case on a couple of stools.   
  
Mind if I play? she asked hopefully, though she pretty much knew the answer.   
  
Well, you can, Mickey said ruefully. But some punk busted our good amp the other night. Fell on it after some guy pushed him. I got him working here for a couple weeks to earn back the money, and some extra for himself. He set down the glass and looked up to the ceiling, pondering. There might be an old amp in the back. Not as hi-tech, but it gets the job done. He dug in his pocket and handed her a key. Here. Right back here. He showed her the door to the back, and she opened it, thanking him briefly and walking in. As soon as the door closed, she flicked on the light switch. One second ago she had been in the cool hip Mickey's. Suddenly she was plunged into the depths of some ancient dungeon. It was dank and cold, and cobwebs were all around.  
  
She tried to navigate her way through, but the few lights around were not helping, and there seemed to be another hallway, leading to another room. Not seeing another amp, she walked slowly down that hallway. It led her to another room, which she cautiously turned into...  
  
Lily momentarily screamed shrilly. The guy standing there dropped the whole record pocket he'd been holding, record and all, and it smashed on the ground in front of him.  
  
I'm...so, so sorry, Lily said, when she stopped freaking out. Over the guy and over the record breaking. I was just coming down here for an old camp, cause Mickey said that someone broke the newer amp and I.... She paused, searching for words. She breathed out a sigh of sort-of relief. I wasn't expecting to find anyone down here.   
  
The guy hunched down towards the ground, picking up what bigger pieces of the broken record that he could. Lily looked down at him, only seeing his shaggy light brown hair hanging in his face. He didn't look up before he began speaking, still intent on the broken record pieces.   
  
Yeah, neither was I, he said, monotonously. So maybe you should leave before you break every other record and CD in storage. Lily backed up a step. Wee-oo, wee-oo, major jerk alert! She looked at him with a sort of bitter contempt.  
  
Well, sorr-ee, Mr. Amp-Destroyer, she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Didn't mean to put a damper on your sunshiny day. She was still staring at him. His eyes were dark brown--perfect villain eyes. She waited for another angry comment before she could storm out. But as she watched, his mouth slowly curled up into a slight smirk.  
  
I was kidding. He picked up a box fuil of records from the floor. Ms. Record-Destroyer. He walked past her out the door, brushing against her shoulder intentionally as he did.  



End file.
